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by hoomhum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoomhum/pseuds/hoomhum
Summary: Sometimes home is a not so lonely mountain.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jafndaegur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jafndaegur/gifts).



The initial thought occurred to Bilbo the morning of the first snowfall in the second winter since Erebor's reclamation. The first winter, falling upon them right after the Battle of the Five Armies, as it was being called, had been a time of too much hardship to even think of holiday celebrations. Instead, every breath and thought had been focused on their survival: stabilizing the mountain for occupation, navigating trade with the men and elves, and rationing what few supplies had survived their journey across Arda. 

In the following year, the mountain had flourished. Dwarrow returned, called back to their ancestral home in numbers that Bilbo could never have imagined, and for each caravan that arrived there came laborers both skilled and unskilled, all determined to return Erebor to her former glory. Bilbo himself had returned briefly to the Shire in the summer with almost all of the Company as escort and when they made the return trip, slower than on the way there now that he'd packed half of Bag End into a wagon-- handkerchiefs included, thank you very much-- he'd been gobsmacked to see the progress made in just the few months he'd been away.

Kingship suited Thorin, who took to the duties and responsibilities that it encompassed like a duck to water. He ruled both from the throne and from among his people: a king who knew the value of hard work and was unafraid to get his hands dirty, no matter how Balin occasionally tutted. When he was not ruling, he was wooing Bilbo with an intimate, intricate, courtship.

Bilbo didn't mind the complexity of dwarrow traditions on these matters, though he sometimes expressed otherwise on principle. Honestly, what was wrong with trading bouquets and going for walks? Dwarrow courtships had many different stages, formal declarations and gifts that seemed to be more about how things looked from the outside than how they were between the pair. Perhaps that was just a result of courting a king, though.

Really, he couldn't mind too much, because formalities aside their courtship led to moments like this: Thorin perched on the edge of their shared bed and drawing a gentle hand through Bilbo's curls. That a hand so roughened by work, belonging to a body so strong, could be so gentle made Bilbo's knees weak.

"It snowed in the night," Thorin whispered to him. He was already dressed for the day, an earlier riser by nature than Bilbo ever was if he had the choice. "You would enjoy the sight, I think."

Bilbo hummed, turning his head to catch his dwarrow's fingers with his lips in a soft kiss. "And the sun?"

"The morning is bright and clear." Thorin's beard twitched slightly as he smiled. "There's word that a storm is coming and we'll be snowed under for a while. If you want to see it, you'd best come now."

Sleepily, Bilbo agreed. It was only when he was dressed, strolling the clear swept ramparts arm in arm with his beloved that he realized: this would be a Yule without travel. The thought made him nearly giddy.

Traveling as a hobbit was nowhere near as arduous as traveling with a bunch of dwarrow across the entire continent, of course, but it had never been his favorite part of the winter holidays. Though mild, Shire winters still saw regular snowfall, which meant treks to the homes of his extended family were done either with toes squelching through freezing mud and slush, dirtying one's foothair terribly, or in uncomfortable and clumsy boots that made one's feet sweat and stink.

It was an annoyance, one that he would not have to face as all that he loved currently resided inside the mountain.

The great forges in said mountain kept all the habitable areas a reasonable temperature. The stone floors were dry and not cold enough to be felt through the thick soles of his Hobbity feet. The chambers he shared with Thorin were, additionally, outfitted with soft woven rugs, which Bilbo had requested somewhat shyly to encourage his dwarrow love to leave his boots at the door.

No, this holiday there would be no trek to Tuckborough, to wade through hoards of relatives and sleep in an unfamiliar bed. No familial obligations or even a need for supplies from the market, or firewood, would boost him from his door. Best of all, perhaps, he wouldn't have to squabble for kitchen space, or be relegated to appetizer duty when it came to cooking for Yule. Their chambers had a full kitchen and Bombur always welcomed him in the royal kitchens if he wanted more room or another oven. This year he would roast a bird himself for his found family, would treat them all to the best dishes he knew and bake their favorite desserts and sweets. 

"Only a hobbit would smile at all this snow," Thorin grumbled, wrapping him up from behind. As Bilbo leaned back against him the dwarrow barely had to shift to press a kiss to his head. "I'm glad it pleases you."

"It's beautiful," Bilbo said, because it was true. The sun was almost blinding in its brightness, the way it glinted against the unmarred snow that had fallen over the mountain and surrounding lands beautiful. "But I'm not smiling at the snow."

"No?" Thorin shifted his grip and Bilbo complied with the gentle request to turn in his arms. "What, then?"

According to the laws and the traditions of the dwarrow, any person who married a dwarrow was named a dwarrow themself. Perhaps that had always been what Bilbo was meant to be, in his own way. A hobbit-dwarf, who preferred residence in a mountain to trekking through the rolling snowy hills of the Shire during midwinter. 

He threaded one hand in Thorin's beard, noting with some pleasure that it was long enough now to get a grip on, and tugged him down for a lazy kiss. When their lips parted again, he rested his forehead against Thorin's, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"I'm just very happy to be home for the holidays."

 


End file.
